


Here's What I Propose

by a_splash_of_stucky



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, F/M, Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Sarah Rogers Feels, Surprises, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 04:49:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14846060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_splash_of_stucky/pseuds/a_splash_of_stucky
Summary: I mean....I chosethattitle for a reason...





	Here's What I Propose

“Hey,” Bucky says, as he steps into Steve’s room and shuts the door behind him. “Ran up here as soon as I saw your message.”

“Bucky,” Steve says, voice tense. He’s sat on the edge of his bed, wringing his hands together nervously. His golden blonde hair is ruffled, like he’s been raking his fingers though it.

“Steve? What’s wrong, what’s up, pal?” Bucky asks, crossing the room in big strides.

He stops dead in his tracks when he sees the little box beside Steve’s thigh. The faded scarlet is a stark contrast to the crisp white of Steve’s bedsheets. Bucky recognises it from when he and Steve packed up Sarah’s things, all those decades ago.

“You’re gonna ask her?” Bucky asks, putting two and two together.

“Yeah,” Steve replies, voice hoarse.

“So…what? You wanna practice on me? We can do that.”

Bucky clears his throat and tosses his hair back theatrically. “You wanted to ask me something, Stevie?” he asks, putting on his best imitation of your voice.

Steve laughs. “Nah, Buck. I’ll pass on that.”

“Okay then, why  _am_ I here?”

“Because I need you to help me set it up.”

“Sure,” Bucky says, nodding easily, “What’s the plan?”

“Well. Here’s what I propose…”

Bucky levels Steve with a murderous glare. “Steve. You did not.”

————————————

“Bucky, I swear to god I  _will_  castrate you if I break my neck,” you growl, wavering unsteadily as you make your way down the stairs.  _Blindfolded_.

The asshole has the audacity to laugh. “Re _-lax_ , Y/N, I got’cha, I ain’t gonna let you fall.”

“I don’t trust you,” you grumble, as you continue to take baby steps down, guided by Bucky’s hand on your elbow.

You have no idea where Bucky’s taking you.

A few minutes ago, he’d shown up outside your room and asked you to follow him. When you agreed to do so, he produced a blindfold out of thin air and tied it over your eyes. You’d protested vehemently, but he wouldn’t let you take it off. You’ve been pestering him with questions this whole time, but Bucky isn’t giving you anything. You’ve been trying to use your knowledge of the compound’s layout to figure out where he could be taking you, but you’ve made so many twists and turns that at this point, it’s a lost cause.

“We’re almost there,” Bucky murmurs, making you jump in surprise.

“Finally,” you gripe. “I swear to god, Barnes, if I take off this blindfold and Wilson throws a pie in my face or something, you won’t be sleeping for a  _week_.”

“It’s nothing like that,” he assures you. “Big step, now—okay, perfect, aaaaand we’re here.”

“Great!” you say sarcastically, “Can I take the blindfold off yet?”

“Nope,” Bucky replies. “Just—yeah, turn that way for me Y/N, no—okay,  _yes_ , stay there,” he orders, letting go of your arm and stepping away.

“Bucky?” you say, slightly panicked by the loss of contact.

“Just hang in there, Y/N,” he calls, his voice coming from somewhere behind you, “Patience!”

“I’ll show you patience— _oh_!” you squeak, when a warm hand comes to rest on your lower back.

Someone chuckles in amusement.

You know that sound.

“ _Steve_ ,” you hiss, “What the hell is goin’ on here, I—,”

“It’s a surprise, honey,” he soothes, “I’m gonna take the blindfold off now, but I want you to keep your eyes closed for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree, still feeling rather suspicious.

With deft fingers, Steve unties the blindfold and whips it off you. You inhale sharply when he takes your hands in both of his.

“Okay. You can open ‘em now.”

“I swear to— _wow_ ,” you gasp, eyes going wide as you take everything in.

You’ve never been in this room before. It’s small and square-shaped, with warm lighting, pale grey walls and a wooden floor. It’s also completely empty, save for the framed photographs, sketches and paintings hanging on the walls.

“Steve—what?” you ask, confused.

He laughs softly, lacing your fingers together as he tugs you forward. “Surprise!” he says, sweeping his arm around in a huge flourish.

“Surprise for what?”

Steve shrugs. “Well…I wanted to get this done in time for our anniversary a couple’a weeks back, but I had some technical difficulties. So I thought—better late than never, right?”

As he talks, he guides you to the framed photo nearest to your left. You recognise it immediately.

“Aw, our first date,” you murmur, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you reach out to touch the corner of the photo; a selfie of the two of you in Prospect Park.

When you’ve looked your fill, Steve takes your hand and brings you to the next framed piece. You remember this one — it’s a sketch of you that Steve drew when you were both on the way home from a mission in Seoul. You’re looking over your shoulder, a soft smile on your face.

The frame after that holds a set of cheesy photobooth pictures taken during a Christmas party that Tony had a few years back. You and Steve had been dating for nearly two months when you took these.

They’re all  _memories_ , you realise.

Your smile grows wider with every sketch, selfie, painting and polaroid that you come across. As you and Steve make a slow circuit around the room, you’re able to relive some special moments from your five years together.

There’s that blurry polaroid from Sam’s birthday, and that’s a painting that Steve made when the two of you went to New Zealand. There’s that naughty selfie you sent him when he was stuck in Uzbekistan for a month, and beside it, the photo he sent you in return. Steve’s arranged everything in chronological order, so you’re able to see how your relationship has grown and evolved through the years.

 _God_ , has it really only been five years?

“This is the last one,” Steve says quietly, as he guides you to stand in front of a painting hanging by the door. You narrow your eyes in confusion as you study it, because you don’t recognise where it’s from.

It’s a watercolour painting of you standing in front of a floor-to-ceiling window, the sunlight casting a warm glow on your features. The dress you’re wearing looks similar to one you’d worn to a Stark Industries gala dinner earlier this year, except  _that_  one had been a pale blue, whereas this one is a crisp white, with lace adorning the bodice and an elegant train pooling by your feet.

Huh. Now that you think about it, you remember seeing a picture like this one in the official photos released from that night. Steve has managed to capture the beatific smile on your face and he’s added some white flowers to your hair and—

 _Oh_.

“ _Steve_ ,” you breathe, understanding dawning as the puzzle pieces fall into place.

You turn around and  _goddammit_ , there he is, down on one knee, a red velvet box clasped in his outstretched hand. There are tears glistening in his blue eyes and a hopeful smile on his lips.

“Y/N,” he starts, his voice raspy, like he’s on the verge of tears. Steve closes his eyes and huffs out a laugh. “I—I had this whole speech written out and everything but—the truth is, I’m too damn nervous to say a word of it anyway.”

“Honey,” Steve says, the pet name rolling off his tongue as smooth as the substance itself. “Y/N, I’ve loved making all these memories with you. The good ones, the funny ones, the sappy ones—and I wanna keep on makin’ memories with you. For as long as I can. So…will you marry me?”

“Stevie, you didn’t have to do all this,” you whisper, your brain too overwhelmed to process anything right now.

He quirks his lips in a smile. “That’s not a yes.”

“Of  _course_ it’s a yes, Steve,” you say thickly, “A thousand times yes, baby, I love you so much.”

Steve’s grin is brighter than any star in the night sky. “I love you too,” he murmurs.

You thrust your left hand forward and in a shaky voice, ask him to put the ring on you.

With trembling hands, he opens the box to reveal a simple gold band with a single diamond at its centre. “It was my ma’s wedding ring,” Steve says softly, as he slips it onto your finger. “It felt right, y’know?”

“I love it,” you declare, as you let yourself be pulled into his arms, your lips finding his in a clumsy but fierce kiss.

“I love  _you_ ,” you repeat, cupping his face in your hands as you lean back to look at him. “And for the record? Steve, this is the best memory  _ever_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Reblog this on [tumblr!](https://a-splash-of-stucky.tumblr.com/post/174566383560/heres-what-i-propose)


End file.
